


Fixation

by richestgrave (eyedler)



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyedler/pseuds/richestgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sena woke up that morning in a state of panic. It was one thing to be dreaming about a well-earned victory, quite another to be dreaming about your rival having you for lunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juin/gifts).



> Sena POV. General series spoilers. Events happen right around 205th and 206th down, some lines were borrowed from 206th but used in slightly different circumstances. Everything’s pretty much AU after the fight with Shinryuuji. Originally posted [here](http://shinsena.livejournal.com/3159.html) back in 2006.

Sena woke up that morning in a state of panic. It was one thing to be dreaming about a well-earned victory. Quite another to be dreaming about your rival having you for lunch. Frankly, Sena was a bit alarmed.

The previous day, the Deimon Devil Bats did something even the Oujo White Knights couldn’t do: defeat the Shinryuuji Nagas, the “Gods of Kantou.” It had recently become the best day of Sena’s life.

The _current_ day, however, was shaping up to be one of the worst days of Sena’s life. Moving was sheer agony. Later, Monta and Taki joined him in the locker room crying, “Holy _crap_!” Kurita showed up shortly after, his _gigantic_ frame quaking as he labored to move.

“Today’s our day off from practice,” said Kurita, smiling shakily before offering his stretching services to Yukimitsu.

“Hey, let’s do something later,” Monta said just as they exited the locker room, currently getting filled up with Yukimitsu’s cries.

“I think I’d just rather rest,” Sena replied, but then it wasn’t exactly easy to relax when Oujo was their next opponent. Again, Sena’s dream came to mind, and a strange feeling crept up his spine. It wasn’t quite fear. But it definitely made Sena uneasy.

“I’m not saying we should slack off,” Monta grumbled. “We could watch some tapes. We’ve got a lot on Oujo over at the clubroom.”

“Oh, well in that case…”

 

That afternoon, after school, found Monta in Sena’s room, tinkering with the VCR player.

“I still can’t believe you have one,” Monta was saying. “This is like, 15th century stuff.” Which was maybe Monta-speak for really, really old. He let out a triumphant sound and turned to Sena. “Got it. Hand me one of those tapes, will you?”

Sena grabbed a random videotape from the huge pile inside Monta’s bag and tossed it over. Monta caught it easily, jamming it into the VCR and pressing play.

“Uh,” said Monta.

Sena’s first thought was, _That’s not Shin._

It really wasn’t. What it was, was a woman dressed in a skimpy black outfit and wearing too much make up on her face.

“Uh,” said Monta again. “Maybe she’s the team manager?”

Sena had a feeling that she wasn’t. She really wasn’t. But he kept quiet, and Monta didn’t make a move to stop the tape. _Well_ , Sena tried to rationalize, _she_ seems _to be in a locker room..._

When a man in a football uniform joined the woman on screen, Monta grinned and said, “See? She _is_ the team manager.” He settled down on the floor, grabbing a pack of potato chips nearby.

“Ah…,” Sena began, “he’s not wearing the Oujo’s uniform.” _And that’s not Shin_ , he thought again.

When both woman and player started to undress, Sena felt he should really stop the tape now. But Monta seemed fascinated.

“Oh, I guess she also doubles up as a doctor?” Monta was saying, innocently munching away on his potato chips. “That’s convenient.”

And then three seconds later the scene suddenly shifted to one in which Sena was quite glad didn’t involve Shin in _any way or form._

“HOLY CRAP!” Monta exclaimed, frozen in place as both woman and football player began the act of… _Humping,_ Sena finished in state of panic and denial. _They’re just humping the table. Just humping the…oh god, oh god, oh god._

His mother’s, “What’s going on up there?”, call from downstairs spurred Monta into action. He dived for the VCR and pressed _off, off, off._

“Table!” Sena shouted back, before realizing he was making little sense. “Uh, Monta spilled chips all over the table! Accidentally! And, uh, uh, it’s all right because it’s the table and not the floor!”

Meanwhile, Monta was burying his head in his hands urgently muttering, “Did not happen! Did not see that happen! Did not see _anything!_ ”

 

Five minutes later, Sena’s room had grown uncomfortably quiet, Sena’s mother seemingly having decided not to bother “those silly boys.”

Slowly, Monta picked himself up from the floor. “That did not happen,” he firmly said before snapping both his fingers loudly. “There. Okay, hand me one of those tapes, will you?”

Sena blinked once, twice, and looked at Monta’s shaking hands. “Right,” he said, grabbing a tape from Monta’s bag one more time and tossing it over.

Monta turned back to the VCR, took the tape that was already inside out, and very carefully, almost reverently, tossed it towards Sena’s window—which was only partially open. With Monta’s horrible aim, the tape bounced off the ledges and right by Sena’s feet. Sena stared at the tape for a full minute before finally kicking it so it slid right under his closet.

The new tape contained Deimon’s first match against Oujo. Monta’s hands stopped shaking and for the next hour, he only sat on the floor, munching potato chips and occasionally commenting on the game, and how Oujo was “really, really cool. But we’ll beat them. Definitely beat them.”

Sena was quiet in the corner, watching the game and turning an embarrassing shade of red every time Shin would appear on screen. First he thought, _Well, I got tackled an awful lot then._ Then he thought, _humping._

 

One Wednesday morning, Sena again woke up in a state of panic. It was one thing to be dreaming about your rival having you for lunch. Quite another to be dreaming about yourself, your rival, and a lot of humping.

Frankly, Sena was very, very alarmed. He sank under his covers and thought, _I’m going to hell. Oh god, oh god, oh god._

When he came down for breakfast it was again to his mother’s fawning over her “celebrity son” and his father’s complete unwillingness to discourage said fawning. His muscles were still sore, but he found he could move much more easily.

Practice was grueling, and Hiruma was hinting at a new game play that was sure to be keeping the team busy for a while, or until their fight with Oujo.

Everything comes back to Oujo, and Sena found himself desperate to get back to that zone where there was Shin and Shin’s strength that Sena would have to overcome, the end. No Shin and humping. Definitely no more humping.

“Holy crap, I need help,” Sena muttered, collapsing on the ground after the last of his practice runs. Sena will have to Figure Things Out. Preferably in secret. With absolutely no one close to him knowing. And so, there was really only one person he can turn to for help. Someone who was knowledgeable and would see that Sena had a Serious Problem Indeed.

 

“So this really is a regular thing, isn’t it?” Sena asked, sinking himself into the hot bathhouse water.

Kakei stared at him, deadpan. “It’s only your second time here.”

Sena’s face heated up. “Oh! I meant, uh, you. Your team. Hanging out in here after practice. It seemed like a regular thing. Which is great. Made it easy to find you, hahaha….” Sena trailed off and he sank lower into the water.

In the background, Mizumachi was having another go over the bathhouse wall and into the ladies’ side; Sena didn’t have the energy to try and stop him. Besides, Mizumachi seemed to be doing the stopping all by himself, never getting even halfway up the wall without slipping and sliding all over the place.

Sena turned back to Kakei, who was still looking at him patiently. Or something.

“I have a problem,” Sena finally said. “You see we’re facing the White Knights in the semifinals and, uh, I can’t concentrate.” That seemed like a good way to start. “You see, I’ve been having dreams, lately.” He paused and tried to gauge Kakei’s face for any indication that he was following. Or that he thought Sena was a complete lunatic. It was difficult because Kakei wasn’t exactly famous for being easy to read, but since he was still looking at Sena, it probably meant he wanted, or at least, didn’t mind that Sena continued.

“Kind of disturbing dreams, actually. I, uh, can’t quite get these…images…out of my head and it’s really, really beginning to become a problem.”

Kakei continued to stare at him, then he opened his mouth, just as Mizumachi dove in to join them and interjected, “What kind of images?”

Sena wanted to say he really, really, just wanted this to be between him and Kakei, please, please, please—but Mizumachi had already firmly planted himself beside Kakei and didn’t seem to be inclined to leave. So much for his “swim and peek” bathhouse dogma.

Taking a deep breath, Sena said, “It’s Shin and, uh, he, uh.” He stopped. There really wasn’t any way he could bring himself to say it.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Mizumachi seemed disposed to help Sena out. “Shin? You’ve been dreaming about him what? Beating you? Because that’s just natural, he’s a really strong guy. I mean, seriously. Just don’t let it get to you.”

“I think that’s the problem,” said Kakei. “It’s getting to him.”

“Right,” Sena said. “It’s getting to me. I can’t seem to ignore it.”

“You afraid of Shin?” Mizumachi asked.

“No, it’s not really fear,” Sena replied carefully. “I mean, I’m afraid, but not of Shin. I’m afraid of this, uh, thing. Uh, what might happen if...” He sighed, frustrated. “Look, I just need to make the dreams stop.”

“Okay…” Mizumachi began, frowning. “It’s probably because you’re too focused on Oujo right now.”

“Nothing wrong with being focused,” Kakei interjected.

“Yeah, well when you’re having dreams about Oujo, it probably means you’re thinking too much about Oujo,” Mizumachi argued.

“He never said he was dreaming of Oujo,” Kakei corrected, looking at Sena, his face still expressionless but his eyes were gleaming ever so slightly. “He only said he was dreaming of Shin.”

Sena blushed and ducked his head, but Mizumachi wasn’t looking at him.

“Shin, Oujou, Oujo, Shin,” Mizumachi said with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever. If you’re having dreams of whatever or whoever, it probably means you’re thinking too much about it. So stop. And if you can’t stop then,” he shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve got a problem. You’ll just have to deal with it, man.”

 

So Sena was thinking too much about Shin, apparently. Not a big surprise, come to think of it. Shin always, _always_ seemed to be at the back of his mind, whatever he may be doing. Even when he was playing against someone else, Shin was always there. A phantom image reminding Sena that he needed to be better, stronger, faster. Making Sena _want_ to be better, stronger, faster. Someone worthy of being Shin’s rival.

He was also probably thinking too much about that unfortunate incident with the video that never, ever happened. So maybe Sena was finally hitting that time in a man’s life where sex became a major part of his daily functions—whether it be in theory, as per possibly Sena’s case, or in practice, as per the case of no one, no one, _no one Sena knew at all_.

Sena found himself sitting up on his bed, his head in his hands. “Okay, okay, relax,” he told himself. It was normal. Very normal. And he was alone, in his room, so it was _all right_. What wasn’t all right was Sena, wasting hours of the night mulling over his Problem instead of sleeping—and most likely dreaming of Shin and that damned humping. _Sex, just call it sex, idiot,_ Sena thought, gritting his teeth.

Lying back down, something in Sena’s head clicked. Since he was thinking a lot about Shin, and lately, thinking a lot about Sex, they would fuse into ShinandSex in Sena’s dreams.

It made perfect sense.

Sena was more than happy to take it that way and, snuggling into his covers, finally allowed himself to fall asleep…despite the nagging voice at the back of his head saying, _Yeah, but don’t guys usually think about sex with_ girls?

 

The next morning, Sena again woke up in a state of panic. It was one thing to be dreaming about having sex with your rival--after having rationalized it somewhat the night before. Quite another to find yourself sporting a major hard on because of it.

Sena has then concluded that he was actually batshit insane. And when he got into the shower to take care of his Morning Surprise, he found himself shying away from the mental image of naked girls— _oh my god,_ Mamori _and_ Suzuna _are_ girls! _No way! Absolutely no way!_ —the second he thought of them however, and found his panic reaching ridiculously new heights when he found himself coming at the mere thought of _Shin, Shin, Shin._

It was time for desperate measures. He found he can’t quite stop himself from thinking about Shin, so the best thing to do was to stop thinking about sex.

It was Thursday which meant more practice and more opportunities for Sena to distract himself. Things that will help him _not think about sex_. When they got their mid-practice break, Sena still found himself seeking out Monta, who quickly agreed to a light jog down the shores of Kuromisa River, their usual running spot.

For a while, Sena managed to lose himself in the run, taking comfort in Monta’s presence beside him. But as they neared the bridge overhead that connected to the main highway, Monta piped up, “Hey, remember when we stopped those motorcycle gang thieves with Shin?”

“What? Shin again!?” Sena said, surprised to find himself lash out like that. Monta’s eyes widened and stopped to look at him with open concern.

Sena bit his lip and before he could stop it, Shin’s image was already flashing before his eyes: putting on his gloves and taking off after the thieves, Sena right beside him—keeping pace with him.

Sena slowed to a halt a few meters in front of Monta, confused. Where he expected to find frustration, he instead found a strange warmth. It spread from his chest and to the rest of his body, and Sena thought, _That feels nice._

“Sena? What’s wrong?”

“I,” Sena began, but he didn’t know how to continue. He turned to Monta and asked, “Monta, you like Mamori, don’t you?”

Monta’s cheeks turned red and he looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Yeah…”

“How do you know?” Sena demanded. “How do you know that you like her? How do you know that you like someone?”

Monta blinked. “You just know.” He shrugged. “When you want her around. Or, or, when you feel really happy when she pays attention to you. When you find yourself thinking about her…”

“All the time?” Sena interjected. “When you dream about hi…the person all the time? When you want to be better, much better, so that the person doesn’t stop looking at you? When you feel really excited at the thought of meeting the person again? Like that?”

“Uh, I guess?” Monta said, frowning. “Although…all the time? I mean, those things you said sound awfully more than like to me, you know.” He shrugged and crossed his arms. Then his eyes narrowed. “Wha…what brought this on?” He leaned forward, eyes suddenly widening. “You don’t…Sena, do you…?”

But Sena was already running, as fast as his legs could carry him. He wasn’t prepared to answer what Monta was about to ask…and he didn’t want to lie.

Sena found himself back in front of the American Football clubroom at Deimon High. The field had been empty and all their equipment had been cleared up. Practice had probably been moved to the clubroom. He walked up to the door and opened it slowly.

“See, they came! My win!” Mamori declared suddenly, raising her hand, palm up towards a grinning Hiruma who promptly handed her a can of soda.

Sena blinked at them. “What?” Kurita and even the Hah Brothers were crowding inside, lounging around and, in Kurita’s case, munching on some snacks.

“Hey, Sena! What was that…whoa, people,” Monta said, trailing off as he skidded to a stop right beside Sena. “What’s going on? Practice is over?”

“We’re off for a little spying,” Hiruma said with a bloodcurdling grin, whipping out his mobile phone and dialing. “Everyone, out front!”

Sena found himself ushered by the rest of the team back outside, just in time to catch the wind suddenly pick up as what could only be three helicopters descended upon them.

“Courtesy of the fucking drunkard’s winnings. Before he went bankrupt, that is,” Hiruma proclaimed. “Get on, there’s lots to do.”

They flew over the city and eventually slowed down over a football field where Suzuna quickly piped up, “Hey, those yard’s colors!”

“We’re flying over Oujo Senior High School!” Monta exclaimed, hands and face practically squished against the helicopter window.

“They’re having a practice match,” said Mamori through the radio. “The members of Oujo’s Golden Age, the Oujo University’s Silver Knights, against the current Oujo White Knights. They’re just finishing up now. Hey Hiruma, aren’t we a bit conspicuous up here?”

Mamori’s voice was quickly followed by Hiruma’s evil cackle and Sena found himself preparing for the worst. He looked down at his feet and wondered if there was some evil trap door there that was going to send them all plummeting to their doom.

But Hiruma simply said, “We’re going down!”, and as if on cue, and much to Sena’s relief, the helicopters proceeded to descend upon an open patch of field some distance away.

“It’s Oujo’s School Festival today,” Mamori later explained, as they made their way into what Monta kept calling, “enemy territory”, armed with nothing but civilian clothes and Hiruma.

Or maybe not even Hiruma.

Not two minutes upon entering Oujo, the menacing quarterback had disappeared. With Kurita, which was no mean feat.

Sena found himself wandering the busy rows of event tents with Mamori, Taki, Suzuna and Monta. During that time, Monta had been eyeing him in a very resolute way and when Suzuna spirited Mamori off to watch some show or other and Taki got distracted by his reflection in a fish pool, Monta immediately descended upon him.

Sena sighed heavily and resigned himself to the inevitable questioning.

“So Sena,” Monta began, suddenly losing his initial bravado and simply shoving his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, you know. I just thought you would though. I mean, we’re best friends, yeah?”

At that moment, Sena felt a little wretched, having run away from Monta like he did. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “Thing is, I kind of just realized myself.”

And then Monta grinned, slapping Sena at the back before throwing an arm over his shoulders. “You sounded really serious back there. So, who’s the girl? Is it Suzuna?”

Sena blinked, but not really surprised that Monta was a million ways off. “No, not Suzuna.” And when Monta’s eyes widened, quickly added, “And not Mamori either.”

Monta’s forehead scrunched up. “Eh?”

“I wish I could tell you but…,” Sena stopped suddenly. Monta seemed genuinely curious. And they were best friends. He took a deep breath, “Actually, it’s…”

“Shin!”

Sena’s eyes widened and for a while was rendered speechless by Monta’s display of uncharacteristic intuition. “How…how…”

But Monta was pointing behind him. “It’s Shin, look!”

Sena blinked, turned around and saw that yes, Shin was standing just three booths away together with Takami, Sakuraba and the gigantic Ootawara. _Oh_ , Sena thought, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest and a goofy smile spread on his face.

Ootawara was cooing over one particularly large stuffed rabbit in a nearby dart booth. Sakuraba was standing right next to him, looking very much alarmed.

“It’d be bad if we were spotted,” Sena finally managed to say, reluctantly taking his eyes off Shin and turning towards Monta. Monta was in the process of nodding in agreement when his eyes suddenly bugged out.

“What? What?” Sena asked, distressed.

“Deimon!” came Ootawara’s exclamation, and both Sena and Monta froze.

Ootawara hadn’t been looking at them, though. Instead, he’d been looking at Taki, who had now firmly positioned himself in front of the four-man group, hands on his hips and speaking of his many amazing, beautiful, wonderful attributes that would no doubt be more than enough to bring Deimon’s victory.

Sena found himself feeling more than a little embarrassed when both he and Monta were finally spotted. Monta was beginning to come up with a lousy excuse—but Sena thought he’d give him props for trying—for them being there, “There was a dog. It, uh, stole my lunch money and we chased it all the way here. And when we caught it, we, uh, found you were having a festival after all so, haha, might as well hang around…”

Taki was already saying, “What is this game? Darts? I’m very good at darts! I can hit that bull’s-eye with my eyes closed! And quite prettily too!” 

Apparently, Ootowara only had eyes and ears for the equally dim, because he was already challenging Taki to a round, dragging the hapless Sakuraba with him to pay for the entrance fee because he didn’t have any money.

“I can do that too! With eyes closed! And prettily!” Ootawara was saying, pumping his meaty fist.

“Two against one?” came Monta’s predictable outburst, planting himself next to Taki and demanding he be included in the match. It would probably be two minutes later before Monta returns to his senses, Sena surmised, scratching the back of his neck.

“So, Eyeshield,” Takami said, turning to him and smiling a smile that was both knowing and very much amused. “Came to spy on us? The practice match just ended.”

Sena quickly looked away, embarrassed. “Uh, uh,” he stammered, feeling not only Takami’s eyes on him, but Shin’s as well. The latter made his heart hammer hard in his chest and he thought, _not good, not good._ He might as well tell the truth. “Hiruma brought us here.”

“Ah,” said Takami, nodding. “Of course.” Then he turned away to watch Ootawara attempt to throw a dart with his eyes closed. The game moderator wisely situated himself several meters away. Behind a solid wall of wood.

That left Shin, who was still staring at Sena. And Sena, who was quite possibly close to having a heart attack. _You know he does stare at you all the time. It never really bothered you before. Much,_ Sena was thinking, looking up then looking away again. _He’s probably angry. We came to spy. That’s kind of dishonorable, right?_ Except, he didn’t really think Shin was angry…

“Are you angry?” Sena found himself blurting out.

Shin seemed neither surprised by the question, nor confused that Sena, of all people, would ask such a thing. “In your match against Shinryuuji,” Shin said, forcing Sena to look up at him, “you revealed all your cards. If it was us instead of the Nagas you were fighting, you would probably have won. It’s good that you came here today, to see how the Ballista works.” Their eyes locked and Sena suddenly felt bare, open, and utterly defenseless. “When we meet, I don’t want some card trick giving me any unfair advantage over you. I want our match to be a purely decisive one.”

Sena could only nod, fists clenched. _I want that too,_ he thinks.

Just then, Ootawara erupted into a series of whoops and cheers as Sakuraba landed a dart close to home, clinching their team’s win. Sena wasn’t too surprised. Monta had such a horrible aim, and Taki, though admittedly gifted, was largely capricious in displaying any kind of talent when he was being a conceited ass.

The moderator, relieved to see all was over, handed Ootawara a small stuffed cat, which the lineman gingerly took with evident disappointment, looking forlornly at the stuffed bunny which was undoubtedly reserved for the high scorers.

Both Mamori and Suzuna joined them shortly after with a basketful of candies, trinkets and even money. They regarded the Oujo players warily, but were too polite not to greet them. Suzuna’s mood turned particularly cheerful, though, when Ootawara gave her the stuffed cat Sakuraba had won, and the tension surrounding the two groups slowly eased out.

Takami struck up a conversation with Mamori, both carefully avoiding the topic of American football. Ootawara was regaling Suzuna with tales of his amazing dart athleticism, Taki occasionally interjecting. And Monta…was speaking with Sakuraba. Their game faces were on and they were openly talking about the match with Shinryuuji.

Again, Sena was left with Shin, who seemed to be pretty content with just standing in the background. When Shin’s head turned to look off into the distance, Sena thought, _He must want to train somewhere._ Because that was how Shin was.

But then Shin returned his gaze to Sena and asked, face blank but eyes keen, “Would you like to race?”

 

The riverside was only slightly curved, and unlike Kuromisa late in the afternoon, it was practically deserted. It probably had a lot to do with the pathway’s very steep entrance. And Sena thought he wouldn’t be too off the mark if he assumed that the recently constructed concrete platform some distance away was the new preferred route down this particular avenue.

Shin had changed to his usual sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt while Sena had to make do with his current attire. He always had running shoes on anyway, and his clothes were hardly constricting. Shin had eyed him doubtfully some time ago, but Sena was quick to dispel his worries with a quick dash and a Devil Bat Ghost maneuver that, shortly after, Sena realized was a bit too theatrical and bordering on playful.

Shin didn’t seem to mind though, so Sena allowed himself to forget about it.

“We’ll jog first. When we get to the end, the race begins. Finish line is here, our starting point.”

Sena nodded and both took off at a light run, side by side.

It was a long jog, neither of them speaking. But it was a comfortable silence. Shin, ever focused, seemed curiously relaxed in his gait. Sena’s heart had stopped hammering fiercely. A feeling of quiet warmth and contentment filled him, and Sena silently wished it would never go away.

Eventually, the end came into view. Shin’s focus grew palpable, and Sena felt his muscles coiling as they came to a stop.

A signal wasn’t needed. When Sena dug in his feet, Shin dug in his in perfect unison. When Sena pushed off, Shin pushed off neither a hundredth second too late nor too early.

They raced down the riverside, the wind in their faces, their muscles straining. Sena hardly felt the ground on his feet as he threw in everything he could muster. And right next to him, he could feel Shin working as hard as he was. Feel his movement as if it were his own.

When they reached the end, Sena knew he won by a hairsbreadth. He also overshot the mark ever so slightly, and found his forward momentum propelling him a few more meters ahead, right into the bridge wall. Shin suddenly grabbed him with both arms and for a while Sena thought, _Trident Tackle_ , before he realized Shin just kept him from smashing his nose.

But all Sena could really think about, feel about, was Shin’s strong, warm arms around him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the heat in his chest. He turned around, grabbed Shin’s head between his hands, and smashed their lips together.

It was a very short kiss, and when Sena’s high died down, he quickly pulled away. Shin was looking at him with wide eyes, and in them Sena could see both shock and dismay.

Sena felt his chest constricting in a most excruciating way. “Sorry,” he stammered, hands shaking and tears threatening to spill. He turned and ran away, faster than he had ever run before.

 

The next day, right before practice, Sena sat dejectedly next to Monta in the locker room. It took a while for Monta to notice, but when he did, he looked at Sena as if he knew exactly what happened.

“Well now,” Monta said, one arm going over Sena’s shoulder before exclaiming, “You know, I got rejected thirty-seven times! Ten of those times, by the same girl. And my first crush was this big fat—but very cute—girl. I gave her flowers, but she just sort of ate them…”

It didn’t make Sena feel any better, but he wanted to give Monta props for trying. He looked up and tried to give him a smile, but instead he found himself bursting into tears…which was such an Unmanly Thing To Do and if Hiruma caught him, he’d feed him to Cerberos, and the thought just made Sena despair _even more._

Monta, meanwhile, was panicking. “Oh, shit. Um, Sena, Sena, it’s all right,” he stuttered, throwing another arm around him and patting him awkwardly. “Probably wasn’t worth your time, anyway. I mean girls, they’re hard to understand, you know. Not to say Mamori is, uh, anything less than perfect or anything. But you know, not every girl’s like her.”

For the next five minutes, Monta babbled nonsense and Sena cried his heart out. Eventually, though, when Monta was in the middle of his, “Now Mamori would never reject you. Not that you should try anything with her because then I’d have to kill you. But even if Mamori did reject you, it’d be in a really nice, really gentle way that you’ll probably be thanking her afterwards or something,” speech, Sena wiped his tears furiously and stood up.

Monta stood up as well and asked softly, “Sena?”

“It was a stupid thing to do, kissing Shin like that. It wasn’t even a particularly good kiss!” Sena said aloud, sending Monta’s jaw dropping. “It was very uncool.”

He had probably offended Shin, doing what he did. And three short days from now, he’d be facing Shin across the field and it would probably be awkward. It would probably keep him from playing his best. Shin didn’t deserve that. Sena didn’t want that.

Monta, meanwhile, was still stuck in sentence number one. “ _Shin?!_ ” he said in a very high voice that was threatening to break.

“I have to fix this,” Sena said, clenching his fists and turning to Monta.

“Before you go around fixing things, fucking shrimp,” Hiruma interjected as he marched into the locker room, making Sena freeze, “we’ve got work to do. Quit slacking off and get your asses on the field.”

Sena had been afraid Hiruma would press for details. Of course, that Hiruma would already know or guess what was going on wouldn’t really come as too much of a surprise to Sena. Regardless, that Hiruma let the matter drop (for the meantime) was something Sena appreciated.

Immediately after practice, he sped for the station, hoping to catch Shin before Oujo’s practice ended. Right before the train came by, Monta showed up, wordlessly following him as he boarded.

Sena steeled himself but still found himself blushing. “Monta…”

“So the jerk rejected you or something,” Monta said, standing stiffly with his hands in his pockets. “Going to teach him a lesson like a real man, huh?”

“Uh…”

But Monta kept talking. “You know Shin’s pretty strong. And tall. Won’t be much of a fight if it was just you.” He seemed to try for a casual shrug but ended up with an awkward jerk of shoulders. “I could climb over him,” he continued. “Bring a bucket over his head and you can hit him in the nuts.” By then, his eyes were already gleaming in a really creepy way.

“Uh,” Sena tried again, “actually, no. I, um, wanted to apologize to him.”

Monta visibly deflated.

“I was out of line,” Sena admitted, looking down. “Shin was really looking forward to our match. I think I might have ruined that.”

Monta finally turned to really face him, arms crossed over his chest. “You know, not that I’m good at reading people or anything,” he said, evidently pained at both the admission and the attempt at being serious, “but I’m kind of surprised that Shin doesn’t…,” his face scrunched up but he said anyway, “… _like_ you back.”

It was Sena’s turn to be surprised.

“Well,” Monta said, shifting his weight and seemingly getting the hang of his new, graver persona, “The way he stares at you? He’s always so… _focused_ on you, man. If anyone was like that to me—unless it’s a pretty girl, of course—I’d be creeped out. Who wouldn’t? I mean, you aren’t because you… _like_ him.”

“But that’s how Shin is,” Sena replied, smiling sadly. “He’s always focused. He loves the game. Defeating me on the field is just one of his goals.”

But Monta was looking at him incredulously. “Look, Sena. That’s probably the problem, right there. You think Shin doesn’t see anything beyond football, but man, he sees _you_. Now we both know _how_ he sees you—only in relation to football, but that’s only because he doesn’t know anything _but_ football. You getting this?” he asked, reaching to slap Sena on the shoulder.

Sena automatically moved away to avoid getting hit. “So you’re saying…”

“Shin’s stupid,” Monta answered, nodding. “Now you say you’re going to apologize to him? How are you gonna do that, huh? What would that even mean?”

“It would mean…that I’m sorry,” said Sena, confused.

“For what? Liking him?”

“No, _kissing_ him like that. I was out of line.”

”Okay, okay, so you do that,” Monta says, gaining steam, “and then what? You’re going to have to tell him why you did it. So you’re gonna tell him you like him, right?”

“Uh…I guess?”

“And then what? What?”

“I would say…it won’t affect how I view him as a rival?” Sena said, a feeling of dread rising in the pit of his stomach not very different from when he’s taking a particularly important, but grueling quiz.

Monta nodded some more. “Good. That’s good. And then what?”

“I would say…that’s it?”

This time, Monta’s hand met its target.

“Ow!”

“You know, you’re stupid too,” Monta said, exasperated. “You and Shin deserve each other.” He shook his head and leaned closer. “What do you do when you like someone, huh?”

Sena opened his mouth to answer but Monta was on a roll. “You woo them, man. You do stuff so they like you back—if they don’t _already_ like you back. Now wooing Shin. That’s gonna be easy. He only ever likes football, so you play football but hey, you already _do_ that. So you gotta keep _playing_ football so that Shin never stops looking at you and maybe, if you’re lucky and Shin’s not that stupid, he starts seeing you beyond football. Get what I mean? Get it?” Monta was grinning already, nudging Sena with his elbow.

“Ow, don’t…do that,” Sena said, rubbing at a sore spot on his chest.

“Shin’s goal’s to beat you, right?” Monta says, still grinning. “So don’t let Shin beat you, and you’ll be his goal for life!”

“That, uh,” Sena stammers, “makes a bit of…sense. Um, but...”

But Monta was already dragging him off the train. “Oujo’s this way,” he was saying, and Sena was too dumbstruck that Monta was actually going the right way to voice any protest.

 

When they actually reached Oujo, it was to the football team still in the middle of practice.

“They even practice longer than we do,” Monta muttered, one hand still fisted tight around Sena’s right forearm. “Oh well, they’ll stop when they see us.”

“This is really not…” Sena was stammering. This was a side of Monta Sena wasn’t particularly happy to see at the moment.

“YO, SHIN!” Monta shouted across the chain-linked fence and into the Oujo football field.

As one, the Oujo players turned to look at them and Sena found himself shrinking back, even as Monta said in a loud voice, “Shin! Sena has come to issue a manly statement!” With that, he pushed Sena forward with a slap on the back. “Go on, Sena.”

Sena stumbled a few steps before hooking his fingers on the chain-linked fence and finding his balance. When he looked up, he found himself facing down an entire football team, half the members looking on curiously, and another half looking annoyed. _It’s like a bad dream,_ Sena thought, shaking. _A very bad dream._

“Sena, come on,” Monta urged impatiently, chest puffed out at the Oujo team.

“Uh, that is,” Sena began, looking for Shin and finding him easily. The rest of the team had somehow cleared a circle around him after Monta’s declaration. He was some distance away so Sena wasn’t entirely too sure if he was seeing things, but Shin looked…nervous. Which is just not a good indicator at all.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize,” Sena finally said. He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize about yesterday. I was out of line and, uh, sorry if I offended you.”

Now everyone, even their Coach, was looking at him curiously. Shin, meanwhile, had moved a little closer and what Sena had thought was nervousness on his face had changed to a look of confusion.

Before Sena could make heads or tails of what Shin’s expression could possibly mean, Sakuraba, who had been quietly looking on before, suddenly gave out a strangled squawk as comprehension dawned on his face. Sena didn’t like comprehension. He didn’t like it at _all._

“Wait a minute,” Sakuraba was saying. “Is he why…? Oh my god,” he turned to Shin, “Is that why you were asking…?” But Takami was already on him, pulling his head down and whispering furiously into his ear.

As if Sakuraba’s outburst had been a signal, Coach Shouji suddenly said, “ _What the hell is going on here?_ ” even as the players erupted with their own questions, looking at Sakuraba and Takami, Shin, Monta, and finally, Sena.

Sena buried his face in his hands wishing for everything to have been a bad dream and that he would wake up, very, very soon. 

But Monta moved beside him and nudged him with an elbow. “Hey,” he hissed, “Shin’s coming.”

Sena immediately glanced back up, only to see that Shin had moved and was now just two steps away.

“You’re sorry,” Shin began, eyebrows furrowing, “…for liking me?”

A very sudden hush fell over the field, highlighted by a soft groan from Sakuraba and Monta’s jaw dropping.

Sena was blinking furiously, utterly confused. “What? Uh, no! I mean, what?”

“You kissed me,” Shin said simply even as everyone else save Monta, Sakuraba and Takami exclaimed, “WHAT?!”

But Shin was continuing, “So that means you like me.” He turned away briefly to look at Sakuraba and Takami. “They say that’s what it means.”

Sena was too shocked to blush properly. “Yes, well…” suddenly, Sena was very, very aware that there were at least fifteen other testosterone-filled men in the field and that he was probably in deep, deep shit. “Can we, uh, please talk in private?”

Shin was silent for a moment and everyone else was silent with him until Ootawara gave out a particularly loud fart followed by a, “Sorry! Sorry!” as the players moved to cover their noses.

Finally, Shin said, “Okay,” and led Sena past the fence and to a largely concealed spot behind the bleachers.

“Okay,” Sena began, eyes rooted to the ground. “I like you.” He paused. “Do you know what that means?”

“You enjoy spending time with me. You think I’m attractive,” Shin answered promptly and Sena had the sneaking suspicion that those were either Sakuraba’s or Takami’s words being spoken back to him.

“Yes, I do, and, and you…make me feel happy and…it shouldn’t be your problem,” replied Sena before quickly adding, “No, wait, that isn’t right.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to like me back,” he said. “And if…you don’t mind, I’d like to,” he paused, not sure if Shin understands the concept of being wooed. “I’d like to see if maybe I could get you to do that.”

When Sena looked up to finally meet Shin’s eyes, he was surprised to find the other man blushing.

Despite the slightly pinkish tinge in his cheeks though, Shin was his usual straight-faced self. “I like spending time with you,” he said, sounding very much like a man who had never spoken the words before.

“Oh.” Sena ducked his head, feeling a shy smile creep into his face. “You do?”

“I’m sorry,” Shin said, making Sena look up at him again. “Yesterday, I didn’t know what to do.” For the first time, Shin was the one who broke eye contact. “It bothered me that I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, I didn’t know exactly what I was doing either,” Sena said quickly. Then he pursed his lips before continuing, “That’s why…people practice, you know?”

Shin’s head snapped up and Sena realized rather belatedly that “practice” was right up Shin’s alley. “Practice” was speaking Shin’s language.

“I shall persevere,” Shin said, very, very seriously, before scooping Sena up easily and pressing their lips together, much in the same way Sena had done the previous day.

“Mmmrph!” Sena burbled, trying to find a place where he could put his arms and finally settling on Shin’s broad shoulders. His feet were barely touching the ground and it was three long seconds before Sena could relax into the kiss.

They were both terribly inexperienced, but Shin was a man who was very good with his instincts. When Sena opened his mouth ever so slightly, Shin turned his head so that their lips fitted right into place. The next time Sena moved his mouth, Shin’s tongue darted forward, and Sena thought, _That feels really nice._ He could feel Shin’s whole body vibrating as their bodies pressed closer together.

When Shin’s hand dipped to his lower back, Sena pulled away slightly. “This won’t affect our match, right?” he asked breathlessly, his lips tingling.

Shin was looking at him in confusion. “What does this have to do with our match?”

Sena blinked then laughed very softly. “Nothing,” he said, before kissing Shin again.

It was another while before Takami finally interrupted them with a light cough.

Sena’s first instinct was to jump guiltily away, but Shin’s arms around him were strong and tight, so he only managed a quick parting of lips and a furious blush.

“Shin,” Takami said, not showing any signs of embarrassment at catching them in a particularly intimate moment. “We still have practice.”

Immediately, Shin released Sena and Sena laughed quietly. There was football, and there was them.

“I’ll wait up with Monta,” Sena told Shin, bowing slightly to Takami. “I’m sorry for interrupting. We won’t be spying on you.”

Takami grinned wryly. “Of course.”

Shin turned to him and Sena gave him a warm smile, saying, “I won’t let you beat me.” He was speaking football now.

“Oujo will win,” Shin answered back. Then his lips turned up into a very small smile that lit up his face so beautifully, Sena couldn’t help but openly stare.

Finally, he stammered out a, “Monta and I will probably be having ramen somewhere nearby…”

Shin nodded, smile gone, but eyes bright. “I’ll find you.” And with that, he turned away and ran back into the field.

Later, while he and Monta were enjoying their ramen bowls, Monta asked, “So what? Is he your…,” again, his face scrunched up, but he said anyway, “… _boyfriend_ now?”

Sena shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re still trying things out.”

Monta made an expression that was partly appalled and partly resigned. “Shin’s going to _wear you out._ ”

Sena grinned. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”


End file.
